Secret Santa Christmas
by AnimationNut
Summary: On their annual Secret Santa, Isabella draws Buford's name. She has some ideas on what to get her friend, but her plans change when she discovers the hardships Buford and his mother have for the holidays. Determined to help out, Isabella embarks on a mission to give him the best Christmas ever-even if it means completely overstepping the budget.


**I do not own Phineas and Ferb**

 **Merry Christmas and Happy Holidays!**

 **Secret Santa Christmas**

Seated around the kitchen table in the Flynn-Fletcher abode, four fifteen-year-olds were patiently waiting for their fifth friend. He arrived ten minutes after their agreed-upon time, flushed with cold and snow dusting his coat.

"Sorry," he said gruffly, stepping through the sliding glass door and into the tiled kitchen. "Had to take care of something."

"It's cool," said Phineas with a smile.

Buford kicked off his boots and took a seat beside Baljeet. A Santa hat rested in the middle of the wooden table. "Alright, who's going first?"

"Me!" exclaimed Isabella. She dragged the hat towards her and plunged a red nail-polished hand inside the festive headgear. She pulled out a small piece of paper and read the name written on it. Her face gave no tells as to who she might have picked, and she passed the hat along to Buford. Soon everyone had picked a name and the hat was tugged over Phineas' red hair.

"No picked their own name, right?" asked Phineas.

"No," his friends chorused.

"Awesome. I hereby declare this year's Secret Santa officially begun!"

"Do not forget the budget is twenty dollars," added Baljeet.

"As always." Isabella stood up and shrugged on her pink winter coat. "Well boys, there's a week until Christmas. Time to shop until we drop."

"We're still on for creating an ice-sculpture rendition of _The Nutcracker,_ right?" spoke up Phineas as his friends started to pull on their coats and boots.

"I'm going to be busy for the next few days," muttered Buford, zipping up his jacket.

Ferb frowned slightly. "We've barely seen you all this month. Is everything okay?"

"Fine," said Buford snappishly. "I'll probably see you at the end of week. If not, definitely for Secret Santa. Later."

He departed and Baljeet hastily hurried after him. Not too fazed by his cold, abrupt behaviour, for he was known to have his moods, Isabella simply shook her head. "I know someone with a case of Bah-Humbug," she muttered. In a louder, more cheerful tone, she said, "See you guys later."

She stepped out into the frigid December weather and walked towards the gate, trudging through the snow. She paused at the end of the driveway when she spotted Baljeet and Buford at the end of the street, deep in conversation.

Buford didn't look happy, and was snapping something at the Indian teen. Whatever the problem was, Baljeet seemed to drop it, shoulders slumping in surrender and muttering something. Buford's face softened ever-so-slightly and punched his friend in the shoulder, a rough, affectionate gesture.

Isabella arched an eyebrow as they continued on. "Wonder what that was about," she asked aloud, bewildered.

The two were known to get into arguments, but not to such an intense extent. Giving her head a slight shake, she continued towards her house, the menorah glinting beautifully in the window, while fishing out the small piece of paper from her pocket. _Buford_ was written in his familiar, choppy handwriting.

 _Hmm…this is going to take some thinking._

…

"Isa?"

Glancing up from her notebook, where she was jotting down potential gift ideas, the Mexican-Jewish girl smiled at her mother, who stood framed in her bedroom doorway. "Hi Mom. What's up?"

"Biffany and I were speaking with each other at the mall and somehow we got our packages mixed up. Do you think you could run over and make the switch?"

"Sure," she agreed. It would give her a chance to tell Buford all about their ice-sculpture show, and maybe she could wheedle out some hints on what he wanted for Christmas. "I'll bring it right over."

She took the package, wrapped in pretty sparkly green paper and decorated with a cranberry-red ribbon, from her mother as she passed by on her way downstairs. She got into her winter gear and started the trek to the van Stomm residence. It didn't take her long and she approached the door, knuckles raised to knock.

"Buford, darling, you really don't have to do this."

"I want to, Ma."

Curiosity overwhelming common courtesy, Isabella lowered her mitten-covered hand and listened intently to the conversation happening on the other side of the door.

"But it's Christmas, dear. You should be playing with your friends."

"We're fifteen," replied Buford, mild amusement in his tone. "We don't play."

"Oh, you know what I mean. You shouldn't be working. That's not your responsibility right now. You'll have plenty of time to work when you're older. Right now is a time for you to enjoy being young."

"Ma, you've done so much for me. I want to help out as much as I can."

"You're a good boy, Buford," said Biffany, voice trembling with emotion. "If only I had gotten laid off after holidays. At least we'd-"

"It's okay," insisted Buford. "We'll make it through. I don't need presents or a tree or any of that stuff. So don't worry. I have to go or I'll be late, but I'll see you later, alright?"

Though she was suddenly feeling numb, Isabella managed to work her legs into jumping off the edge of the porch, landing in the bushes below. Buford exited a few moments later, lugging a shovel behind him, a downcast expression on his face and his eyes dull. Isabella peered through the leaves, watching her friend depart. She stayed huddled in the shrubbery, mind whirling around what she had just heard.

 _Laid off._

That explained Buford's absence over the past month. He wasn't around because he was shovelling snow for money. She also had a good idea of what Buford and Baljeet were talking about yesterday afternoon.

 _Why would Buford join Secret Santa if he and his mother are tight for money this year?_

Eyes wet with sudden, hot tears, she wiped them away hastily. She stood up, climbed back onto the porch, checked to make sure no damage had come to the package, and knocked firmly on the door.

"Isabella!" exclaimed Biffany once she answered. "Hello, dear. I'm sorry, but Buford just left. Would you like to leave a message for him?"

"No, I'm just here to drop this off." Isabella extended the package. "I think you and my mom accidentally took the wrong one earlier today when you were speaking with each other."

Biffany took the package and inspected the wrapping job. "Isn't that funny? I didn't even notice. Good thing your mother has sharp eyes. I'll run and grab Vivian's. Would you like something to drink?"

"No thanks," declined Isabella politely.

Biffany went to make the switch and Isabella lingered in the entry hall. After a moment of hesitation she crept forwards and peered into the living room. There were lights strung up in the windows, stockings and garland hung off the mantle, and there were an assortment of Christmas knick-knacks arranged around the room. But where the van Stomm tree annually stood was an empty space.

Heart clenching, she retreated back to stand near the front door. She managed to put a smile on her face when Biffany returned with her mother's package, wrapped in a strikingly similar manner to Biffany's. The only difference was that the ribbon was a lighter shade of red.

"Tell your mother I'm sorry about the mix-up."

"Sure thing. Thanks, Mrs. van Stomm. Merry Christmas to you."

"Happy Hanukkah to you, dear."

Isabella ventured back outside, the box clenched to her chest. She paused and turned around, staring at the Christmas lights that glinted beautifully on the roof, and the wreath that hung from the front door, and the wooden reindeer posing in the yard.

Shoulders slumping, she continued on her way. Instead of going home she made her way to the Tjinder household. She couldn't stop thinking about Buford and his determination to help his mother make it through the holidays. He hadn't told her, or Phineas and Ferb about their current hardships, but she knew he had told Baljeet.

He never did like showing weakness, or voicing what was bothering him. He suffered in silence. She had seen the quiet despair and worry, the unhappiness within his deep blue eyes, as he walked to do a job he wouldn't normally be doing, not unless he really needed to. She felt his pain, and she couldn't stand to see her friend suffering.

She wasn't aware she was crying until Adanna Tjinder, Baljeet's mother, answered the door. Concern and alarm flooded her expression and she set a soothing hand on the girl's shoulder. "Isabella, sweetheart, are you okay?"

Sniffling slightly, Isabella reached up, feeling the warm beads of water on her cheeks. She quickly scrubbed them away and replied, "I'm fine, really. May I speak to Baljeet?"

"Of course you can. Baljeet!" called Adanna as Isabella took off her boots and coat. "Isabella is coming up to see you!"

"Okay! Thanks, Mother!" came Baljeet's responding shout.

"Stay as long as you need to," said Adanna kindly. "I can give you a ride home if it gets dark. Shall I let your mother know you're here?"

"That would be lovely. Thank you." Isabella smiled gratefully at the woman before hurrying up the stairs. She knocked once on her friend's closed bedroom door before entering.

Baljeet turned away from his computer and spotted the girl's distraught expression. "What is wrong?" he asked anxiously, springing up from his chair as Isabella sank onto his neatly-made bed.

"Buford and his mother," she said miserably. "It's not fair."

Understanding washed over Baljeet before a somber air settled about him. "You found out, huh?"

Isabella nodded, folding her hands together. "My mom wanted me to bring a package over. Apparently there was mix-up between the two of them earlier today with their packages. Anyway, I overheard Buford talking to his mother and learned more than I should of."

"Does Buford know you know?"

"No. I sort of jumped into the bushes before Buford came out and saw me." She let out a heavy sigh, glancing sideways at Baljeet. "I figured you knew. I witnessed the conversation you and Buford had yesterday, and now I think I have a good idea what it was about."

Baljeet rubbed the back of his neck, expression sheepish. "Yeah…I was trying to tell him that he did not have to be in Secret Santa this year. I know we have a budget, but I did not want Buford to feel obligated."

"He didn't take it well," muttered Isabella, recalling the burly teen's angry expression.

"You know him," dismissed Baljeet, a slight smile on his lips. "He is stubborn. We have been doing this for years. He did not want to miss out. If he needed to work extra, then he would."

"We haven't seen him all month," sighed Isabella. "He must be shovelling a lot of snow."

"He has been taking jobs on the other end of town, so that there is less of a chance anyone he knows will see him. He is saving up to help his mother with the bills and to buy her a present. He gets about ten dollars a job, so he tries to do as much as he can in a day." Baljeet pointed at the package that rested beside his friend. "Mrs. van Stomm managed to find a job wrapping presents in the mall, so that is most likely how the mix-up happened."

Isabella fiddled with the zipper on her magenta hoodie. "Why didn't he tell us?"

"Pride, I suppose. Not wanting us to feel sorry for him." Baljeet set a hand gently on her shoulder. "They will be fine. I am sure Mrs. van Stomm will find another job soon. This just will not be a traditional Christmas for them. But they have each other, and they have us, that is what really counts."

Isabella nodded slowly, eyes sharpening with sudden determination. "And he has me for a Secret Santa," she said, jumping to her feet. "And I'm going to be annihilating the budget this year."

Baljeet shook his head, a warm smile crossing his lips. "You realize that once Buford finds out, he will probably put up a fight?"

"That's fine with me," declared Isabella, already planning what she would do for the next few days. "I'm not afraid to go toe-to-toe with him. If he asks if you know anything, what are you going to say?"

"I know nothing," said Baljeet promptly.

"Good." Isabella grabbed her mother's package. "I'll see you later."

"Hold on. I will walk you home."

Isabella smiled brightly at her friend and hurried out of the room, filled with energy. Baljeet followed at a slower pace, thinking intently. After a moment of deliberate thought, Baljeet pulled out his phone and texted Phineas and Ferb.

…

Early the next morning, Isabella went to the nearest Christmas tree lot. The first thing she needed to do was get Buford and his mother a Christmas tree, though she still wasn't entirely sure how she was going to get inside the house without looking like some sort of intruder.

 _Tree first, work out the other details later._

She walked amongst the trees, searching for the perfect one. She could picture the van Stomm living room in her mind, and knew a medium-size one would be the best fit. She soon found a beautiful pine tree, its needles full and green and sweet-smelling.

The price tag informed her it was sixty dollars, but she didn't pay it much attention. She had enough money saved up from working at her mother's café, so cost didn't matter to her. What was going to be a struggle was lugging the tree all the way to Buford's house.

Grunting slightly, she hoisted the tree up and slowly made her way to the cashier, positioned near the exit.

"Need some help?"

Startled, she turned to see Phineas, Ferb and Baljeet with a wooden sleigh, grinning at her. "Guys!" she exclaimed. "What are you doing here?"

"I figured this would be your first stop," replied Baljeet. "I told Phineas and Ferb everything, and we decided to see if we could help. I know Buford will not be happy with me, but Christmas is a time for friends to help one another."

"Exactly," agreed Phineas. He and Ferb helped Isabella lower the tree onto the sled and tied it securely into place. "I'm sure he'll understand."

"After he gets done yelling," quipped Ferb.

Isabella giggled. "Thanks, guys." She then got stern. "But I'm paying for this. This is my gift to him…even if I'm extremely over budget."

Her friends saluted her. "Whatever you say," said Phineas with a grin.

They brought the tree over to the cashier and Isabella paid for it. They made their way through the snow, dragging the sleigh behind them by the rope. "So…I haven't quite figured out the next part," admitted Isabella with a sheepish grin.

"Well, I know there is no one home right now," voiced Baljeet.

"That helps," she agreed. "But how are we supposed to get inside?"

Baljeet dug through his pocket and pulled out a silver key. "I have a copy of the key to the front door."

"Nice," exclaimed Phineas, high-fiving the Indian teen.

The group reached the house. Baljeet unlocked the door while his friends removed the tree from the sled. They filed inside, kicking off their boots and coats so they would not drip snow everywhere. Ferb managed to locate the tree stand and together they maneuvered the pine into place.

"Guess I should leave a note with it." Isabella furrowed her brow, idly reaching out and ripping off the price tag. "But he's going to recognize my hand writing."

"Write with your left hand," suggested Phineas. "It should be legible enough for him to read it, but he definitely won't be able to tell who wrote it."

"Good idea." Isabella located a pen and a piece of paper. She scribbled out a note, attached it to the tree, and the group departed.

 _Dear Buford,_

 _A gift to you and your mother. Have fun decorating it!_

 _Best wishes from,_

 _Your Secret Santa_

…

When Buford returned home after a long day of shovelling, it was to see the tree positioned in the living room and boxes of decorations crowding the floor. His mother was happily pulling out ornaments and arranging them carefully on the couch. When she spotted him a wide smile crossed her face and her eyes shone with tears of delight.

"Buford, you have such wonderful friends!"

Buford gaped for a moment, hardly believing what he was seeing. He numbly accepted a note from his mother and read it, conflicting emotions churning in his stomach. It was obvious that whoever had written the note used their non-dominant hand to try and throw him off. But he knew for a fact that this tree did not cost twenty dollars.

The instant surge of anger and embarrassment almost compelled to yank out his phone and start calling, demanding answers. He was dubious to believe Baljeet would tell anyone of their current financial situation, and it wasn't impossible for one of his friends to find out.

His fingers just brushed against the cool metal of his cell when his mother thrust a strand of glittery gold garland at him, face practically glowing. Unable to stop his own holiday cheer from spilling over, he accepted the decoration and joined his mother in trimming the tree.

His ire, indigence and gratitude could wait until their Secret Santa exchange.

…

Browsing the impressive collection of video cameras and accessories, Isabella was finding it a challenge to locate an appropriate camera for Buford. She knew the basics of video camera function, though she didn't know which brand would be good for an aspiring filmmaker.

"Whatcha doin'?"

Jumping slightly, the Mexican-Jewish girl whirled around to see Buford behind her, arms crossed over his chest. Isabella felt surprised, though she tried not to show it. She knew the others had been confronted by him and played dumb, and it seemed it was her turn to pretend she knew nothing.

Putting on an irate expression, she set her hands on her hips. "Excuse me," she said haughtily, aware that he knew very well how she disliked it when someone used her catchphrase.

"You're excused," returned Buford. He glanced past the girl at the array of electronics. "Didn't think you were a camera girl, Princess," he said, eyes glinting with suspicion.

She knew he was watching her for any tells, but she kept her face indifferent. "Just looking," she answered casually.

"Yeah, sure," said Buford with a dubious snort. "I've got a bone to pick with you."

"I'm sure you do."

"I asked the others about the tree that suddenly grew in my living room. But none of them seemed to know anything about it."

Isabella arched an eyebrow. "Well, it's called Secret Santa for a reason."

Buford leaned close. "I don't suppose _you_ were the one who got me the tree."

Not one to back down, she also leaned forwards, so that they were almost nose to nose, and wore a playful smile. "I don't know. Maybe it was me. Maybe it was Phineas. Maybe it was Ferb. Maybe it was Baljeet. Guess you'll have to wait until the gathering to find out."

Eyes narrowing, Buford stepped back. "I guess so." He turned abruptly and started down the aisle. Before he turned the corner he looked over his shoulder, face hard and stern. "If I get a camera from any of you, we're going to have a problem."

"Duly noted," returned Isabella, and it was only when Buford walked out of sight did she let the smirk surface.

 _Good thing I don't always listen._

She waited a few minutes before grabbing the camera she had seen Buford's eyes linger on. She went to the checkout and paid for it, keeping a lookout for her burly friend. But he seemed to have left, and satisfied, she took the bag and ventured from the store and into the mall. She went to the gift wrap station, located near the Santa Experience.

She approached Biffany, who had just finished wrapping a ribbon around a package. "Hey, Mrs. van Stomm."

"Hello, Isabella," greeted Biffany cheerfully. "How are you?"

"Fine." Isabella set the bag on the table. "Um…so I have Buford for Secret Santa."

"So you're the one who gave us the tree, then?" asked Biffany, staring at the girl closely.

Isabella flushed and rubbed the back of her neck. "Yeah. The guys helped me bring it inside. I hope you don't mind-"

"Of course not, dear. Buford was so happy to be decorating the tree, and so was I. If I couldn't give it to him, I'm glad you did." Biffany smiled warmly and clasped the girl's hand. "Thank you so much, Isabella."

"It was nothing, really." Isabella took a breath and reached inside the bag, removing the brand-new boxed video camera. Biffany's eyes widened and she quickly said, "If you don't want me to give this to him, I won't. I'll fully respect your wishes."

"Isabella, the tree was already too much. But this…"

"I want to," said Isabella passionately. "I know you'd get for him if you could. I know he knows that. I'm not doing this because I feel like I have to, or because I feel sorry. I want to give him this because he's my best friend, and I want him to get a head-start on his filmmaking career. College is coming up, and he's going to need some student films to showcase if he wants entry into the best schools. He's really talented, and I know he's going to become one of the best directors in North America. So please, may I give this to him?"

Biffany reached out, wrapping her arms firmly around the girl in a tight embrace. Isabella quickly returned it, feeling tears well up in her own eyes.

"I would be honoured," whispered Biffany, emotion thickening her voice. "I'm so very happy that Buford has found friends like you." She pulled back, her smile warm and affectionate. "Shall I wrap that for you, dear?"

"Please." Isabella beamed.

She couldn't wait to see Buford's face.

…

December twenty-third soon approached, and the five teens gathered at the Flynn-Fletcher abode for their Secret Santa exchange. They crowded together on the sofa, the wrapped presents in a small pile on the living room floor.

They went in a circle, with Baljeet starting. He gave his gift to Ferb, which was a new set of dark purple headphones. Ferb then gave his gift to Phineas, which was a toolset and some blueprint paper. Phineas' gift to Baljeet was a super-calculator that came with a variety of functions no normal calculator had.

That left Buford and Isabella.

"Interesting how that worked out," said Ferb with a slight smirk.

"Very," agreed Isabella. She grabbed the gift, wrapped in dark green shimmering paper with a red bow, and handed it to Buford.

The burly teen already knew what it was, but it didn't stop the surge of emotion from welling up when he stared at the box of his new video camera. He attempted a glare, but knew it wasn't as effective as he would have liked it to be.

"This better have cost twenty dollars."

Isabella smiled. "Well, I used a twenty when I paid for it. So, kind of." She tilted her head to the side, eyes glinting mischievously. "Do we have a problem, then?"

"I don't know if I should kill you or hug you."

"I'd go for a hug," voiced Phineas.

Buford scrubbed a hand down his face, fond exasperation overwhelming his stubborn pride. "You didn't have to do this."

"I know," she said, eyes softening. "But I wanted to."

"You completely annihilated the budget with this and the tree."

"That's okay." Isabella spread her hands apart with an affectionate smile. "I did this because you're one of my best friends, and I want you to be happy. I didn't do it because I felt sorry for you, so stop being prideful and say thank you."

"Princess, 'thank you' isn't enough."

"Aw," cooed Baljeet, and hastily ducked behind Ferb when Buford glowered at him.

"And I thought I told you not to say anything," said Buford, only mildly irked.

"Well, you did, but Isabella figured it out herself," said Baljeet. Sheepishness crossed his expression as he admitted, "But I told Phineas and Ferb, because I thought they ought to know why you were not around for the holiday festivities."

"You didn't have to keep it a secret," added Phineas, reaching out and setting a hand on Buford's shoulder. "You can tell us anything. That's what friends are for."

"Ya'll are losers," sniffed Buford, trying to keep an indifferent expression.

Isabella giggled and reached for her gift, which was wrapped in pink glittery paper. She tore it off and felt her eyes widen at the velvet case. She opened it and stared at the silver watch inside, its golden hands ticking gently, the heart-shaped gems glinting in the light.

"Buford!"

"That's the watch you lost a few months ago, right?"

"Yes, but this is expensive!" She shot him a glare. "You knew, didn't you?"

"Once I spotted you looking at the cameras, I had a good idea. But I got the watch before that, and before you gave us the tree."

"Hypocrite," she said thickly, taking out the watch and strapping it around her wrist. "You're getting a hug."

Buford hastily stood up and backed away. "No way! I've had enough mushiness and sentiments for one week," he warned. "Don't even think about it."

"Group hug!" whooped Phineas, and the four charged at the burly teen and tackled him. They landed on the floor in a tangle of limbs and laughter, locking Buford in a tight embrace that he could not escape.

It was Buford's best Christmas ever, and it wasn't because of the video camera. It was because he had friends who were willing to do anything to keep him happy. He had friends he loved, and who loved him.

And as far as he was concerned, that was all one needed for the holidays.


End file.
